


woke up in a safehouse singing

by ev0lution



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alina tries to walk away from politics and finds she CAN'T for SOME REASON, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mal stays dead, Marriage of Convenience, Mentions of canonical sexual assault, OR IS IT, Sorry Mal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ev0lution/pseuds/ev0lution
Summary: After Mal died on the Fold, Alina tried to walk away. Somehow, she ended back at Os Alta.In which Alina struggles between kissing and kicking Nikolai and both instincts win out.
Relationships: David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Nikolai Lantsov/Alina Starkov
Comments: 13
Kudos: 78





	woke up in a safehouse singing

**Author's Note:**

> Blame savior complex and let's get married, but the cover by mitski.

**tw: mentions of canonical sexual assault**

* * *

will you love me if the light gets low?

* * *

.

“You can’t _seriously_ be considering this,” Mal snapped, his voice strung with familiar anger and insecurity. He didn’t even wait for Nikolai to fully leave the room, his hair still a gold streak disappearing through the door, and she wished he had. Nikolai was probably going to feed off Mal’s annoyance for dinner. His proposals were increasingly framed as a joke, though Alina knew they were anything but.

A sharp prick of annoyance ran through her. Part of her wanted to snap at Mal, snap at Nikolai, snap at the Darkling – she was the _Sun Summoner_. Not a _plaything_ for boys to fight over.

But then she saw the look on Mal’s face and her annoyance – reluctantly – ebbed.

“Of course I’m not,” Alina said soothingly, stepping forward and taking Mal’s hands in hers. But her mind was whirring somewhere else, thinking of the Darkling. Thinking that getting the third amplifier might not be enough. Thinking that she might need to power of a king on her side, too. She saw Mal’s expression and tugged on his hand, looked him in the eye, “I’m not.” She didn’t know when she became such an apt liar.

.

The Darkling was dead. Dead by a knife. The knife _in her hand_. Each thought had to process individually; her mind was roaring too loudly for anything else.

Alina dropped the blade into the sand, looking at it numbly. She should’ve been happy. She should’ve been _elated_. But Mal was dead, too, and no amount of Grisha power was going to bring him back.

A pathetic scrap of cloth was clung between her fingertips. It had torn when she killed Mal, and now she held it like his hand. She wrapped it around her knuckles like boxing wraps. Mal was dead. It was her fault. She repeated it over and over again, wanting to feel something, but she _couldn’t_. She couldn’t feel anything beyond a horrible emptiness because her _power was gone_. Mal was dead, the Darkling was dead, and she was no longer the Sun Summoner.

Around the Darkling’s neck, the badge of the eclipse hung wildly. Suddenly furious, Alina ripped it off, snapping the cord, gripping it so hard it bit into her hand. Then she spotted Mal, still lying in the sand, Tamar wrapping her coat around his body, and her fury extinguished like a candle.

An Inferi stood nearby, frozen in shock. She walked to him, his eyes jumping to her, full of terror and fear, and why shouldn’t they? She just killed her best friend _and_ her worst enemy, all in one day. She’d just destroyed the Fold. And she wasn’t done yet.

The Inferi stumbled back but she ignored him, faster as she shoved her hand in his pocket, wrapping her fingers around the flint inside. Alina returned to the Darkling’s body, feeling _nothing_ , not even the eyes on her, and struck a spark. But it wasn’t for the _Darkling_. It was for Baghra.

She waited only long enough for the body to start burning before she turned, working her way across the sand of the Fold. The celebrations around her were muffled, as if through water. So was the familiar voice calling her name. She started walking and didn’t stop for a long time.

.

Night fell and day came again. Alina didn’t stop. She passed the port that used to guard the edge of the Fold, passed roads and villages, and cut into the woods. She finally collapsed near a stream somewhere in them, only realizing her exhaustion a beat after she found her cheek in the dirt. She couldn’t even push herself up again. Alina flipped herself on her back and stared up at the stars and started crying so hard she couldn’t breathe.

.

The next day, she stood up, took a drink from the stream, and kept walking. She picked fruit as she walked, more mechanically than out of any conscious hunger. She’d survived too much to die now, like this.

Alina kept off the roads and avoided voices, sticking to the treeline and moving east. The mechanical survivor in her, the one that forced her to stop and sleep and eat and drink, didn’t want to end up in Shu or Fjerda, so she waded deeper into Ravka. Occasionally, she would get near enough to a town to hear celebrations, to hear her name chanted in adoration. Each _Sankta Alina_ was a punch to the gut. If she was a _real_ saint, her miracle would’ve saved Mal. She should’ve been the one that died.

News was travelling with her. She heard the initial announcements in several villages that the Darkling had died, and the Sun Summoner had done it, that the Fold had been destroyed. News didn’t travel about Mal. There was no one else to mourn him.

But then – she remembered Tamar, tucking her coat around him. She remembered Misha, watching Mal so carefully, crossing his arms when Mal crossed his arms, standing straighter when Mal smiled at him. She thought of Tolya, who gave him his tattoo. Alina wouldn’t be the only one to mourn him. But maybe she’d be the only one to mourn him as he was before – the boy who made friends wherever they went, who didn’t think of himself as a weapon, who didn’t grip the only familiar thing in his life so hard it was sometimes suffocating. Thinking such a thing felt like treason. But she couldn’t help it. Grief made things clearer, somehow.

She’d loved Mal. But she’d been mourning him for a long time already.

.

The fire was a pathetic little thing, barely a flicker in front of her, but Alina couldn’t summon the energy to feed it. Instead, she sat nearly on top of it, palms out, calling for her sun. Not so much as a ray answered her, not even the barest spot of warmth. She shut her eyes, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until she made false suns, bright spots of colour against the lids of her eyes.

.

A week after – she struggled to pick a single event – after Mal died? After she killed the Darkling? After she dissolved the Fold? After her power was sucked from her, leaving her dry and empty? She found herself at a road, the first she needed to cross if she wanted to continue east. Like a spooked deer, she lingered at the tree line, inexplicably nervous, eyes casting up and down the road. And then she saw her.

The girl was small and dark-haired, dropped to her knee. Because the man in front of her had his hand raised high. She had a welt forming on her cheek already.

Alina threw herself from the bush, rushing forth like a rabid animal. She leapt onto the man, less like the brutal grace she learned in the Small Palace and more like the desperate scrapping she learned in the First Army, wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him to the ground. She scrambled to her feet, kicking him until he rolled away, shouting at her to stop. When he turned to look at her, shocked and bruised, she roared into his face. The man stumbled back and scurried away like a rat back to its hole.

Alina stood in the middle of the road, chest heaving, knuckles bloody. She watched the man go, running down the road and around the bend. Only once he was out of sight did she turn, looking down at the young woman, who cowered backwards. Alina knew she must’ve looked horrendous – under-eyes black, clothes still the ones she’d worn on the Fold – so she stepped backwards, holding her hands out in front of her, so the girl could see they were empty.

“Are you okay?” She asked. Her voice was cracked and hoarse, surprised at the use and bruised by the scream. But she managed it. The girl nodded slowly, saying nothing.

“Is there somewhere safe for you to go?” Alina asked. Her voice echoed in her head. She sounded nothing like herself.

The girl nodded again, mutely.

“Then go. Before he gets back.”

The girl stood carefully, keeping her eyes on Alina. When Alina didn’t move to chase her, she turned and hurried down the road. Alina didn’t blame her. Instead of trying to comfort the girl, she stayed ten paces behind her, watching over her shoulder for the man, but he didn’t reappear.

Once the girl reached a small cottage, Alina nodded and kept walking. But the girl cried out, “Wait!”

When Alina turned back, she was holding the door open, a bit timidly. “Do you want something to eat?”

She didn’t, but Alina still somehow found herself in the cottage, washing her messy hands in a basin while the girl twittered around her like a nervous bird. Her name was Yelena; she explained that the man was husband, who’d she left the last time he’d raised a hand to her. She was living with friends, who should be home soon, and who she’d be safe with.

Alina didn’t actually ask, but she listened, and she let the girl offer her new clothes and a cloak and a pile of straw for the night. She left in the morning, continuing her pointless walk, occasionally glancing at her bandaged hands wonderingly.

.

She went a few days without seeing anyone. Alina didn’t see any animals, either, except a rogue hummingbird that almost made her smile.

.

As Alina’s hands healed, she found herself watching the progress like it was some kind of miracle, just to heal split skin. She’d recovered from far worse, but then, recovering had been a matter of survival. She’d been aware of her healing in an anxious way, terrified she’d be caught injured, at a disadvantage. Now she watched the scabs and knitting skin with fascination, wondering why she’d never appreciated it before.

.

In a clearing filled in flowers, Alina built a pyre. It was a sorry excuse for a pyre, small and made of twigs and dry leaves, but Alina had been told once that funerals weren’t for the dead. She was starting to understand that. 

Alina watched the flames lick up the Darkling’s eclipse necklace and Mal’s shirt scrap. They were all she had left of them: the man who loved her power and the man who loved her powerless. She dug her chin into her knee and watched the fire until nothing was left but ash.

.

She stumbled on an orphanage, housed in a squat, rundown home, overwhelmed with children. Alina found the children crowded around a tree wailing, because their kitten was stuck up in its branches.

Alina was gone by the time the proctor answered the children’s cheering, nothing but a white flash of light and angry red claw marks streaking her arms from the ungrateful little thing.

.

Alina’s plan had been to stay away from the roads and the people. She’d meant to disappear into the countryside; to die on the Fold, like a saint should. But after a year of devoting every moment to helping people… she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

She began to hear stories on the roads and in the towns she passed through. Travellers and townspeople began to echo stories of a white-haired fairy appearing to drag a child from a rushing river; a malignant sprite that appeared in the face of violent husbands and brutal deserter soldiers and even a cruel lord, who drank from gold goblets while his servants starved.

Alina bought a heavy cloak to wear over her hair and relearned invisibility, without the Small Science. It wasn’t hard. She’d been doing it all her life.

(She heard stories about the new king, too. They called him King of Scars, a king who built flying ships and made a habit of soaring towards the sun.)

.

Weeks passed. The Mal-shaped hole in her heart began to shrink by millimetres. The sun-shaped hole in her heart, impossibly, shrunk too. Each seemed to get smaller every time she helped someone, shoving aside raiders and rescuing wayward pets and helping people off their knees, again and again.

.

When she reached Os Alta, she considered turning around and walking all the way back. But her shoes were literally falling apart at the seams. So she walked up to the palace gates and told them she wanted an audience with the king. When they laughed at her, she took out the ring and watched their eyes get as big as its stone.

They escorted her to the throne room. The man sitting on the throne was surprisingly somber. _The King of Scars_ she remembered. But she wasn’t sure she believed it. They’d called her _Sankta_ _Alina_ and here she was, still living; saints were supposed to be martyrs.

“Sun Summoner,” he said, though the throne room was empty and there was no need for formalities. Alina walked forward, feet sore and clothes torn. She didn’t match a thing in the grand room.

“Nikolai,” Alina returned, a smart twist to her mouth. “You look poorly,” she said, and then started to smile.

She watched Nikolai’s mask crack. He leaped off his throne and half-ran to her, scooping her into a hug.

“ _Saints_ , Alina,” he sighed into her hair, “I thought you were dead.”

It affected her more than she thought it would. She curled around him, the first familiar thing since she left the Fold, pressing her face into his neck.

And then he said, “You’re in desperate need of a bath, lovely.” And Alina started to laugh so hard she started to cry.

.

Nikolai brought her to a room personally, not leading her to the Small Palace, like she’d expected, but through the halls of the Grand Palace. Somewhere in her mind, she’d already been preparing to return to the Darkling’s quarters, wondering just how hard those four walls would hit her. But Nikolai just led her through halls in the Grand Palace until he settled on an apartment in the back, with a huge bed and a wide balcony and a wall of windows through which the sunlight streamed in.

“It’s yours,” Nikolai promised from the doorway. “For as long as you need.”

Relief crashed over her. She didn’t really realize how much she was dreading sleeping in the Darkling’s bed.

She fell into the huge, plush bed, and slept.

.

“I was going to send in a rescue party, you know,” Nikolai drawled, sprawled across the furniture in the sitting room attached to her apartment. He wasn’t much taller or broader than her, but he seemed to take up twice as much room as she could, tossing a wayward limb over every bit of furniture he could reach. It read more privateer than king. “Not the woods. The bed. I thought you’d gotten lost. Did you know one of my maids came in to check on you and you growled? Growled like a bear, I heard it all the way in the throne room, I swear.”

Alina stole his last sweet roll as punishment, ignoring his stricken look. She stuffed half of it in her mouth at once, still remembering starving a little too easily for table manners. She knew what she must look like – the last time she’d bathed was a week ago and it was in a river, her clothes were barely holding themselves together, and her eye bags were so dark they looked like bruises. But he smiled at her anyways.

Alina looked at him closely, too. He had new lines next to his eyes and something about his swagger seemed more put-upon than before. Or maybe she just knew him better.

“You seem tired,” she told him, gentler than she’d meant. She’d meant it to have a sardonic twist, but it came out soft.

“Lovely, have you seen a mirror?” He asked good naturedly, then leaned back in his chair. Alina had a weird feeling it was so she couldn’t see him as clearly. Soon a new excuse was spilling from his mouth: “Becoming king has cut into the time I use for my skincare routine.” He looked at the breakfast tray, fiddled with his glass of tea. Picked up a spoon, set it down again. The gesture made Alina’s heart twist; she’d never seen him so nervous.

She stayed quiet, knowing he would feel the need to fill the silence. The longer she was quiet, the more he fidgeted. He finally said, “I’m a bastard king. I don’t have very many people I can trust here.” He sighed, like he’d just run a marathon. Alina watched his mask slide neatly back into place, his face smoothing out as he tucked his nerves away, painting over it with his handsome smirk. “Reminds me more of privateering than I’d thought, actually. Turns out that was excellent experience for the job.”

Alina didn’t tell him he could trust her. He knew it already. Some part of her wanted to reach out to him, but she felt a little odd about it.

“What are you doing today?” She asked him, picking at the other half of the sweet roll. Her stomach was starting to turn at such fine food after relying too long on tree bark and waterlogged berries.

“Well,” Nikolai said, shifting towards her, “I was hoping to reintroduce the Sun Summoner to the court.”

Alina sighed quietly, knowing the topic would come up sooner or later. She held her palm up and twitched it in a trick that would’ve blinded him in a second – but no light came. Not even a spark. “It’s gone,” she told him. Gone with the Darkling. Gone with Mal.

Nikolai reached out a warm hand and closed her palm. “That’s not what makes you the Sun Summoner, Alina.” It was probably the most earnest she’d ever seen him.

Alina narrowed her eyes, “That’s _exactly_ what that means.”

Nikolai just smiled and squeezed her fist.

.

After a long soak in her apartment, Alina slipped down to the Little Palace. Nikolai hadn’t made any announcements about her arrival, but when she walked into the map room, Genya attacked her in a tight hug, half-crying. Alina clung to her, shutting her eyes, feeling safe for the first time in her memory. David was next, surprising her with a hug of his own, unpracticed and awkward. Even Zoya smiled.

Genya took Alina out along the lake, filling her in on everything from the happenings at the castle to what day it was, since she’d lost track. Tentative trade routes were being established with Shu and Fjerda, thanks to the sudden destruction of the Fold and the army of Sun Summoners said to arise from it. But tensions were still tight. Nikolai had his work cut out for him, between loyalists to his father and all the newly appointed lords, who hadn’t been around for his birthday massacre. They hadn’t been around for the attack, and assumed Nikolai was at fault for not properly protecting them. And not one of them missed a chance to hint about his bloodline.

“And the Second Army?” Alina asked, holding Genya’s arm where they linked.

“It’s growing, slowly,” Genya said, her words more optimistic than her expression. “But Botkin’s hard to replace. They’re relying too much on their power in hand to hand. We all do. And David’s useless with it, so most of the training falls to me and Zoya.” She paused and tacked on, “I love him and he’s useless.”

Genya told her that the students from the school were still doing well, considering they’d had their guardians brutally murdered by shadow monsters. And they had pastries for breakfast once a week.

Alina was tempted to ask Genya to darken her hair, to change her features. But she was so tired of hiding.

Genya had to return to work by noon, however, so Alina passed the rest of the day in her beloved library, turning pages of old, familiar books without really reading them. It was enough to hold the books and sit in the old, soft chair, and be quiet for a while.

.

Nikolai picked up the habit of appearing at her door with a breakfast tray, nattering on about one thing or another. She’d think him a morning person, but she also knew he was like this at noon and midnight and three in the morning. He never seemed to run out of energy or things to say.

Alina watched closely for the nerves he’d betrayed on that first day, but she could only see them when he wanted her to. Occasionally he would let them slip out, as if to take a breath, before shutting himself down again. Alina watched, too, for any changes left behind from the Darkling’s attack. It took her a few days to get used to his voice, still husky and worn from whatever the creature had done, but she began to relax at the sound of it, especially as it spread through her apartment early each morning. The only other marker she saw were the scars on his hands; he took off his gloves to eat, and Alina thought he was doing it on purpose, that he wanted to show her – not the scars, exactly, but that he trusted her with them.

Curled up in a chair on her balcony, she watched Nikolai talk himself in a circle about a particular advisor – new to the scene, an ex-captain from Kribirsk named Andrei, he seemed to be just as valuable as he was irritating. He had good relationships with captains and nobles based in old West Ravka, which still felt isolated, even without the Unsea separating it. But he was pompous, presumptuous, and nearly every other ‘p’ word that Nikolai knew that even tangentially counted as an insult. Which was a lot.

“Utterly _preposterous_ ,” Nikolai continued into his rant, waving his pastry wildly. Crumbs flew everywhere. It reminded her of the Darkling’s insistence on herring for every meal; she should’ve known something was wrong with him _then_. “And not to mention an over-step – he’s trying to use his own daughter as a bargaining chip.”

“He sounds ambitious,” Alina said, legs spread in front of her. She was learning to take up space, bit by bit. “Like someone I know.”

Nikolai grinned, again looking an inch closer to a privateer than a king, “I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about. And if I did, I’m certain it would be treason to insult your king.”

Alina rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him. She thought about telling him she’d insult him as often as she liked, but she had a feeling it would only encourage him.

Instead, she said, “Do you remember when the Darkling had us on your ship? When he kept me unconscious?” He nodded and opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I remember coming in and out of consciousness. I was confused, I didn’t understand where I was or what was happening. It all felt like a dream. I thought there was a fox in my cabin, watching over me. When I finally came-to and was brought to deck, I met you, and realized it wasn’t a fox at all.”

Nikolai considered her for a moment, before he said, “What I’m getting from this is you find me foxy.”

Alina jabbed him hard with her toe, right in the sensitive crease behind his knee. He jerked, surprised at the sensation. “The _point_ is you were the reason we escaped the Darkling, _Sturmhond_. Maybe having someone crafty is a good thing. Even if they have their own agendas.” Alina leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, “But make sure to keep him on a tight leash.”

Nikolai slowly grinned. “ _Now_ what I’m hearing is you want me on a leash.”

“I should’ve kept walking,” Alina said, shaking her head again. “Bypassed Os Alta altogether.” Nikolai’s grin grew.

They went quiet, looking over the railing at the sunrise. It was quickly becoming Alina’s favourite time of day. Os Alta was still blinking the sleep from its eyes, sleep-soft and gentle. The world seemed a little more peaceful like this.

After a few minutes of quiet, Nikolai said, “I’m so sorry about Oretsev, Alina. He was a good man.”

Immediately, her eyes filled with tears. She curled her feet back towards her. She wanted to nod and agree with him. She wanted to say that it was her fault he was dead – not just because she killed him, but because she kept dragging him into it, again and again. She asked for the sun and more, and she ended up with nothing _._

But she couldn’t seem to get anything past the block in her throat. She nodded, staring hard into the sun, jaw clenched.

.

After her talk with Nikolai, the walls seemed to climb higher and higher, grow suffocating. She pulled on the old cloak she’d arrived in and descended into the outer city. It was still recovering from the Darkling’s raid, all these months later. First Army soldiers shoveled rubble and locals sold their wares from crumbling market stalls, which looked like they were held together with nothing but hope.

The Lanstov family crest adorned buildings, though, graffitied on buildings and sewn into crude banners made of precious cloth. Of course Nikolai was loved, even here, where the people had never actually met him; they knew him only from the aid he offered, the heavily guarded appearances he’d made. Somewhat reluctantly, Alina understood. He had a habit of getting under your skin.

On the outskirts of the city, Alina found a building that looked more run-down than the rest, the windows bursting with the happy chatter of children. Children sprawled in groups on the lawn, playing games that made sense only to their imaginations; teachers and proctors watched carefully from in front of the porch, since the porch was collapsed in the center, crossable only by two long planks struck across it.

Alina stepped towards the teachers, hiking her cloak up so she could move more quickly. She recognized the children as easily as she would Keramzin; _like calls to like_.

“We’re overwhelmed,” the proctor Alina engaged soon admitted. She looked at Alina curiously, like she thought she might’ve recognized her, but she wasn’t sure where from. Alina pointed at the children quickly.

“The Darkling?” She asked. The proctor looked back to the children and nodded.

“Many of these little ones had parents who worked in the palace,” the proctor said. “Most of the servants were slaughtered when he took over. We took them in, though we were already bursting.”

Alina thought about it all the way back to the palace, back into her rooms. She sat on the plush bed and thought about the cracked windows full of children’s voices, stared at the gold-edged plates Genya brought with her for dinner while her mind lingered on the smashed porch.

“Do you know where Nikolai’s office is?”

Genya stopped and raised her delicate eyebrows. The one over her missing eye had grown back since Alina had last seen her, and it was shaped to perfection.

“It’s pretty late,” Genya said suspiciously.

“I need to speak to him,” Alina said, mind still on the orphanage. She missed Genya’s look, her mind still far away.

“That’s funny,” Genya said, sitting back like a cat with a canary, “That’s why I asked David to meet me in the library the other night. But we didn’t end up doing much talking.” Alina looked up at her smug expression and shook her head.

“I want to build an orphanage,” Alina explained.

“That’s very noble, and exactly what I’d expect of you, Starkov.” She paused, “That’s not going to happen _tonight_ , though.”

Alina gestured to her chin, “I think you’re breaking out. Right there.” Genya smirked.

Genya still brought her to Nikolai’s office, tucked away behind the throne room and accessible by one of the tunnels that slithered through the walls. Alina was getting more and more familiar with them, relying on them to move through the castle to avoid the staff. Nikolai had told only one maid of her appearance in the castle, a trusted woman who had once washed his princely mouth out with soap. Otherwise, Alina was little more than a ghost in the palace, slipping through the halls with ease.

His office was smaller than she expected, with huge, Grisha-steel doors. She tapped her fingers on the walls and found they were made of the same thing. It doubled as a saferoom. She remembered the Darkling’s creatures, remembered what they’d done to the reflectors, and how easily.

The office was empty. Genya left her with a suggestive wink. Alina ignored her, moving into the room curiously. There were stacks of papers on the huge, beautiful desk that Alina shifted through shamelessly – trade proposals and pleas for aid and a stack of reports covering a malignant fairy said to be travelling the country. Nikolai walked in just as she was brushing through the collection. She looked up, watching his face, heavy with exhaustion, change. His eyebrows popped up in amusement.

“You were keeping tabs on me,” Alina said.

“I couldn’t exactly ignore reports of a white-haired demon ripping through tyrants across the country,” Nikolai said, rounding the desk and taking a seat, sinking so deeply in the chair his knees almost knocked into hers, where she was standing at the corner of his desk. “In case you forgot, we _did_ capture a sea monster this year. And I’m king. I should probably keep an eye on these things.”

Alina smiled sarcastically back at him. She bumped her knee forward into his. “I seem to remember you once telling me you had a lot of gold,” Alina began. Nikolai shook his head with a smirk.

“You know, I knew I was going to regret that before I even said it, but I just _couldn’t_ help myself.”

His tone was light, but once she started to explain about the orphanage, his face turned serious. “A hundred and fifty children?” His voice was grim but not disbelieving. “In one house?”

“They’re using an abandoned barn, too,” Alina said. “No heat. No clothes, no running water, even.”

Nikolai nodded, reaching for a ledger on the desk. He opened it, flipping through the pages, “I’ll send surveyors first thing in the morning with some food and clothes. They’ll need to speak to the proctor in charge. I’ll appoint Lady Nadia – she’s very passionate about this sort of thing, has opened care-facilities before. She’ll be a good choice to lead.”

“No,” Alina said, standing up straight. “I want to lead it. I grew up in one of these places, I know exactly what they need.”

Nikolai looked up at her, expression soft. “And how will you lead it, Alina? You’re not here, remember? This work can’t be done well from the shadows.”

.

The Sun Summoner’s Resurrection was planned very carefully, and nearly everyone in the palace contributed more than Alina herself. Genya cleared up the last of the black under her eyes and made her dull hair shine. A dress of shining gold appeared in her apartments, and David delivered gold arm bands and a crown that looked more like a halo, that sat on the back of her head with pointed edges like a sun. Even Zoya appeared, criticizing how Alina stood and sat and moved in general until Alina remembered some of the grace she’d lost.

There were Inferi fireworks and a feast, where the story of the destruction of the Fold was acted out by performers. They were dressed in shining gold and billowing black. Nikolai had explained it was the best way to inform the public about losing her powers. But watching it, she understood _best_ didn’t mean _easiest_. Alina watched the player-Alina become a hero, standing tall as she killed the Darkling, crying beautifully as Mal died heroically (and not by her hand). She watched her double sacrifice her power and destroy the Fold, bringing light, once more, to the kingdom.

Alina remembered it differently. But it did have Nikolai written all over it; she should’ve known he’d spin it in the most flattering light, that he’d use even a silly play to strengthen Ravka.

Once the play was over, Alina was crushed into a pack of nobles, and she was suddenly grateful for her experience at the Small Palace with the Darkling, and the countless towns Nikolai paraded them through. It was good practice for this: small talk with important lords and veterans, countless questions about where she’d been the past few months (Nikolai had surmised a strategy for this as well: Alina was to say she’d spent time in prayer and contemplation, which didn’t feel that far from the truth).

Alina took every opportunity to answer the question that inevitably followed: _what next_? She told them about the orphanage. She told them about her plans to stay in Os Alta, at least for a while. She told them about the ruins of the outer city, and the things they could do to restore them. She looked them in the eye and told them about her full faith in Nikolai.

“He’s why I knew I could leave the Fold as I did,” Alina told one noble, in a stroke of brilliance. “I knew he’d care for Ravka better than anyone.”

And if she sought out a few of the advisors Nikolai had mentioned, Andrei and a couple from the north who’d questioned his judgement repeatedly, caused some of the lines beside his eyes… if she told them that she’d trust Nikolai with her life, that she wouldn’t be alive without him, that his strategy and fighting was what helped end the war against the Darkling, just as much as anything she’d done… it was all part of the game.

.

Alina leaned against the open doorway of her balcony, wrapped in a warm sweater and braiding her thin, limp hair off to the side. Genya wanted to touch it up again, now that her work from the resurrection was fading, but Alina felt the same way she had when she first arrived in the Small Palace: she would look like herself, flaws and all.

The sun was slowly rising over the city. Nikolai was late. Usually, he burst into the apartment seconds after a bold knock, smirking as he passed the open doorway to her bedroom and already going on about one thing or another. She could’ve closed her bedroom doors, but something about waking up to all his optimistic, hopeful energy was nice. Like sitting and watching a sunrise.

But he was late and she was wondering if she should go to his offices, in case something had come up and he’d been called on urgent business – she was… sort of a figurehead, which _could_ help, but she’d also survived the Darkling and the Fold, and she was certain that would be useful. Just as she turned to get him, the door bounced open, Nikolai balancing the breakfast tray with a pinched expression.

“They’re coming,” he said, making her stand, move to the sword he’d gifted her at her resurrection – Fabrikator made and edged in gold, she’d trained with it every day since she’d received it, and was feeling more confident each time she used it. Alina fastened the belt around her waist, moving to take off her sweater, when he stopped her. “We’re not about to march off into war, lovely. Not that kind, anyways. Come for breakfast and I’ll explain.”

Alina eyed him. She kept her hands on her belt while she followed him, but she sat down when he gestured.

“My suitors are arriving today,” Nikolai said gravely, pouring her a glass of tea. “They say my good looks and charming personality have led to a dozen swooning maids on their way to meet me.”

“I don’t think they’re called suitors, if they’re women.”

“You’re right,” Nikolai said, nodding sagely and sipping his own tea. “Pack of wolves, more like.”

She smiled and teased, “You weren’t even this nervous about the Darkling.”

“I was trying to kill him, not spend the rest of my life with him. There is a very big difference.” He was quiet, considering. “Perhaps I _should’ve_ married him. A political match could’ve aligned us. And at least he would’ve been _honest_ about his intentions – kill me, take the throne.” He dropped back in his chair, shaking his head at himself like he couldn’t believe it. “Why didn’t I think of that before you made a pincushion of him? Though I suppose producing an heir would’ve presented some challenges.”

Alina couldn’t help herself, laughing at the image of the two of them. The moment they were left alone together, they would probably start wrestling for the throne. For some reason, the image quelled her need to laugh.

After a moment, she realized that he really _was_ nervous. He was making a joke out of it, but she could tell that he’d slipped his usual mask away to flash it at her, before trying to cover it in a thick layer of humor. She stretched her legs out in front of her and poked his ankle with her toe.

“You’re a king,” she pointed out to him. “You don’t have to commit to any of them. And you’re still young. Claim tradition.” Most Ravkan princes didn’t marry until they were closer to taking over the throne – look at Vasily, nearly thirty and still unwed. Nikolai was in an unusual position. Maybe they would take that into account.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever acknowledged that I’m a king before,” Nikolai drawled, tapping his chin.

“That’s because you’ll always be more pirate to me.”

“Privateer.”

“Sure.”

Nikolai grinned, his first for the morning, shaking his head at her. Then he said, “The kingdom is too unstable. A united king and queen would put bring order.”

Alina leaned her chin in her hand, “Then marry.”

“Yes, of course,” Nikolai said wryly. “Why didn’t I think of that? A nice Fjerdan girl, to immediately piss off the Shu. Or a lovely Shu girl, to immediately piss off the Fjerdans.”

“A Ravkan,” Alina suggested.

“Of course,” Nikolai said again, nodding, “To piss off _both_ Fjerda and Shu.”

“It feels a bit like you don’t _want_ a solution,” Alina told him. “You don’t have to decide today. Take some time. Anyone will appreciate you being careful – no one more so than the Ravkans.” Alina poked him with her toe again. “And think of me. If you choose too quickly and are assassinated on your wedding night, _I’ll_ have to be the one to avenge you, and I’m not feeling up to starting another rebellion at the moment.”

It made him grin again, a little more naturally this time. She gave him one last poke before she turned back to the horizon, where she could see carriages and their escorts start to appear. They seemed to start and not stop.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I’ll have your judgement to rely on. They’ve all requested to meet the Sun Summoner.”

Alina thought of more endless introductions and another dress, laced too tightly. “But –”

“Welcome to life in court,” he said, smiling.

.

The ball wasn’t as painful as Alina thought it would be. It was opened with long speeches from the various guests, but Nikolai was witty and charming with each of them, and kept things from becoming too monotonous. Seated to his immediate right, she was able to keep a close eye on him, trying to pick up on the nervousness he’d shown her in the morning. But nothing slipped through, not even to Alina’s practiced eye, not even with her sitting directly next to him. A strange swell of pride rose in her chest over it.

Afterwards, they moved into the ballroom for the dancing portion of the evening. Genya had rushed to teach Alina the court dances and they’d spent the afternoon giggling and circling each other, each forgetting they wouldn’t be leading, grasping hands and planting elbows in sides as the lesson turned more into a wrestling match. Alina thought she was about eighteen years old, according to the guesses made at Keramzin; it was the first time in a long time that she actually felt it.

Alina danced with a few of the lords of Ravka. Nikolai had given her a much longer list, but she ignored most of them, favouring the ones who didn’t make Nikolai’s easy expression pinch. Then she did a round of the _suitors_. They were all lovely women, who knew every language in the realm, quoted obscure philosophers, and had a prayer for every Saint as well as the ability to play at least three instruments.

At first, Alina felt again like the skinny girl facing the Fold for the first time, except now the volcra had painted nails instead of talons and the suitors’ teeth were definitely sharper. But then she talked to a second suitor, and a third, and a fourth. By the time she’d had the same conversation for the fifth time, full of performative reverence covering a thick layer of arrogance, she wasn’t seeing volcra anymore; she was seeing mice.

“Sun Summoner,” Nikolai appeared at her elbow, bowing as he interrupted her conversation with the sixth suitor who believed that she could’ve _reasoned_ with the Darkling – though she _completely_ understood that Alina felt forced to take the action she did. He acknowledged the young noblewoman, complimenting her family line. But not even that wiped the look off the Fjerdan’s face. It certainly wasn’t helped when he turned back to Alina. “Sun Summoner, you’ll have to forgive my poor manners. We’re hours in and I’ve yet to ask you for a dance.”

It unnerved her a little bit to hear him speak so formally when he had been joking about having sex with the Darkling that very morning. But she smiled and agreed in the way she’d heard parroted across the room, letting him take her hand and lead her to the dance floor. He’d picked one of the mid-paced songs, where they didn’t need to trade partners and join in groups. Genya had called it a whispering song; it was a good one for exchanging sweet nothings.

“What _did_ you say to the poor Fjerdan,” Nikolai asked lowly, looking over Alina’s shoulder at her. “She looks like she’s swallowed a lemon.”

“I merely inquired about her plans to address the treatment of Grisha on her side of the border,” Alina told him. Nikolai nodded sagely.

“Very tactful.”

“I thought so. How’s the wife-hunt going?”

“I’ve had a few bites,” he said, “And pinches. I can’t feel my right ass cheek. The delegate from south Ravka has some of the strongest fingers I’ve ever encountered. The last Shu delegate kept telling me about her abilities with the flute.” He stopped, mock-scandal washing over his features, looking at her slowly. “Wait a moment – I think she was implying something obscene!”

Alina snorted. “You dragged me onto the dance floor to brag about your dick? And you wonder why people see you as a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected, “And no, unfortunately, I actually wanted to ask why you haven’t asked Andrei to dance. He’s getting terribly worked up about it.” Nikolai turned them, so Alina could see him, staring at them on the side of the dancefloor. Alina turned them again.

“The very same Andrei who’s been causing you all that grief?” Alina inquired lightly. “I would’ve thought he’d be bold enough to ask me himself.”

“In court,” Nikolai started, in his _I’m about to impart incredible knowledge upon you voice_ , “Some of the best negotiations are done on the dance floor. For some reason, people are much more amenable to your ideas when you’ve got your body pressed up against theirs.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Alina said, leaning towards him, “Trying to give me another lesson?”

“I was going to say it’s particularly powerful used against men,” Nikolai said with his wry smile. “You could ask me to do the _hopak_ naked in the middle of this dance floor right now and I’d be unable to resist you.”

“You’re a flirt, Nikolai.”

“ _And_ a king.”

“Pirate.”

“Privateer.”

The song ended and Alina stepped away, bowing. “Pirate,” she whispered, then turned around and walked towards Andrei, ignoring the smirk she felt burning into her back as she went.

.

The suitors settled into the Palace, each claiming they would only take a few weeks of the King’s hospitality, but bringing enough dresses and jewels and cases that it looked more like they were moving in. They all seemed to think if they could outwait the others, Nikolai would fall madly in love with them. Alina wondered who would break the news that not one of them had the chance; Nikolai was the most stubborn person in all of Ravka.

Alina stayed out of it. She had more important things to tend to than lavish mice.

The last queen had kept a sprawling vacation home on the edge of Os Alta, where she claimed she took much-needed breaks from politics and other trials of palace life. Alina would’ve questioned it more if she hadn’t met the king. If Alina had been married to such an overlarge worm, she would’ve needed an escape too.

Nikolai had offered it as a location for the new orphanage. Her days became filled with overseeing the transition, repurposing rooms for dormitories and classrooms, using any furniture they could and finding places to donate the rest. She helped organize the hiring of more staff as well as establishing quarters for them, and had David bring in some of his Materialki to help with the construction and with converting the gardens into a more child-friendly space. When Alina wasn’t at the orphanage, she was in the markets, writing contracts with locals for coats and clothes for the children, or with food vendors, organizing regular deliveries. Nikolai had been right; it wasn’t the sort of thing she could’ve run from the shadows.

Unfortunately, coming out of them meant she was required to attend luncheons with the ladies of Ravka, which she used to schmooze for more funding, and the occasional religious service, though her participation ended at sitting in the front pew and bowing her head along with believers. At least, sometimes Nikolai attended the luncheons with her. She noticed an immediate increase in donations when he came along, so she tried to pry him to them as often as she could; despite his clear dislike of some of the ladies, he usually agreed.

“ _I_ heard you survived an attack from Fjerdan assassins,” one of the ladies said with delight and Alina, reluctantly, lowered her finger sandwich for the fifth time. Next to her, Nikolai barely suppressed his laugh; Alina had been trying to get a single bite of her lunch for twenty minutes, unsuccessfully.

“Yes,” Alina said, though it felt like a different person had survived the attack. She remembered the cold horror of seeing the cut for the first time, however. That would stay with her for a lifetime. “The Fjerdans cornered us on the road. They set a tree across it, so when the soldiers paused to move it, they ambushed us.”

Some of the ladies gasped and Alina nearly smiled; it probably _did_ sound exciting. And that meant they’d give good coin to her cause. Alina lifted her sandwich but was again cut off.

“But what about the Shu? You travelled near the border, didn’t you? That must’ve been so dangerous!”

An agonizing hour later, the last of the women finally trickled out, thanking Nikolai for his hospitality and Alina for her stories, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. The moment the door was closed, Alina picked up the sandwich plate and stuffed two in her mouth at once, sighing as she shut her eyes and dropped back in her chair. She chewed, swallowed, and without opening her eyes said, “Stop that.”

“I haven’t said _anything_ ,” Nikolai said.

“That’s what’s concerning.”

Alina took two more finger sandwiches and stuffed them into her mouth, chewing. She’d never tasted anything so good in her life. How had she survived on _tree bark_?

“Your manners are stunning,” Nikolai said. Alina glared, mouth still full. “No, really, I _must_ have your etiquette teacher for the palace.” Alina shot her fist out, meaning to clock him in the chest, but Nikolai caught her arm, holding it for a beat too long.

Alina swallowed, looking at his hand. He loosened his grip, sliding his hand slowly down her arm before stopping at her wrist. Alina tracked it the whole way, the warmth of his hand shooting through her, prickling her skin. When she looked up, Nikolai was looking at her, his face unreadable. Belatedly, he let her go, turning back to the table.

.

Alina found herself with a rare free afternoon. The day’s construction at the orphanage would only be something she would get in the way of, and there was nothing else she could start without it being done. No ladies were calling on her presence for lunch, and no believers had clasped her hand in the streets and begged for her attend their service, so she returned to the Grand Palace to try to make use of herself somewhere else. Alina didn’t like to sit still. She thought it was a consequence of Nikolai’s company. He was rubbing off.

As she headed towards her apartment, she ran into Zoya, who seemed to be going in the same direction. Zoya had a grim set to her mouth that made Alina touch the sword she’d made a habit of carrying. But when she spoke, it wasn’t what Alina expected.

“Genya, David, and I have been speaking,” Zoya said, crossing her arms. She had the lovely glow of a Grisha who’d recently used their powers. Alina felt a bit of a pang, remembering the feeling. “We were wondering if you had the time to work with the Second Army. To train them, without their powers.”

“You want _me_ to teach them how to fight?” Alina asked, eyebrows raised.

Zoya sighed, and Alina realized it was her pride that was making her look like she was marching into battle. “I seem to remember a stick of a girl besting me in front of Botkin only a few months into her training.”

“Why would Genya and David send _you_?”

“For comedy, I imagine.” Zoya said.

Alina let herself smile. “I have free time now.”

“Joy,” Zoya said, brushing past her. When Alina paused, unsure if she should follow, Zoya huffed, “Are you waiting for a personalized invitation? You become the Sun Summoner and suddenly you expect to be treated like _royalty_ , I swear it.”

Alina grinned. She thought Zoya was starting to like her.

.

Alina had seen him from her balcony. Dressed like any merchant on his way to the Grand Palace, he still caught her attention. She didn’t know why, only that the sight of him awoke some war-born instinct and sent her peeling down to the throne room.

She gathered guards as she ran, turning the corner just as she entered the threshold of the throne room. When he saw her, trailed by guards, he threw his cape back and lunged through the door. Alina heard swords clash and then the unmistakable sound of metal hitting flesh.

Then Alina was in the throne room and the man turned to meet her, but he was too late – she swung her gold edged sword and caught him in the neck, its momentum stopped only by his spinal cord. The man froze in place, eyes wide in death. Alina pulled the sword from his neck with a nasty suckling sound and watched him drop. Behind her, guards were sealing the doors, and she could see Nikolai through a crowd of guards trying to usher him to the safehouse of his office. He was fighting them, looking through their shoulders at her.

Alina’s heart was pounding, but not from the run or even the murder. She was thinking of Nikolai, sitting on his throne and unable to reach his weapon from it. She was thinking of the trail of guards the assassin walked right past, or maybe killed. She was thinking of brash and bold Nikolai, vulnerable.

Soon, the guards were ushering her towards Nikolai and both of them were crammed into his office, along with what must’ve been a platoon of guards. A pair of Corporalki guarded the door.

Behind his desk, where they’d been shuffled, Nikolai reached forward and wiped some of the assassin’s blood spray from her cheek. She tightened her hand around her sword, looking at the door because she couldn’t handle his expression.

It wasn’t her first murder since Mal and the Darkling. There had been a man – a lord – living in a walled town, where the servants starved, and he prowled maid quarters at night. The people told Alina he’d been in power for a long time; that he’d been unseated, once, only to come back and murder all the men in their village with an army he’d raised on his coin.

Alina went to the maid quarters that night; she brought an axe that she’d found in a nearby barn. When she told the lord to repent and swear to never return, he spit on her shoes. She remembered Nikolai, faced with his Fjerdan captain. So she’d cut off the lord’s head.

Her rage had been fueled by her grief, giving her the strength of a wild animal. She could still remember how many swings it took to take the man’s head off, and the horrible, shocking thunk when her axe hit the ground. She’d dropped the axe and retreated into the woods afterwards, horrified. But no amount of horror at herself could outweigh the image of the girls housed in those quarters – some were as young as twelve.

Alina had dry-heaved in the forest, clutching the grass like it was a lifeline. But she didn’t vomit. If she ever saw Nikolai again, she’d told herself, she’d rub it in his face. It was enough for her to stand up and keep walking.

Alina couldn’t get the memory out of her head in the days after the assassination attempt. Just like the lord had waltzed onto the land and used his coin to create terror, the assassin had been hired, had walked the halls of the palace without much effort. It struck Alina with the importance of the Second Army, and she was pulled out of a strange bubble she’d buried herself in. There were more threats in the world than the Darkling; they were just quieter.

Alina made her training with the recruits a regular affair. Three times a week, she saw the recruits, showed them how to fight without relying on the Small Science. Just standing there was a good reminder: the Small Science was not a promise or a guarantee. It could be gone in an instant – and then what would they do?

_This_ she said, showing them how to throw an elbow up into the ribs. _This_ she said, showing them how to lock an opponent’s hand in a hold. _This_ she said, teaching them how to hold a sword.

David called them “guest lectures”, though _lecture_ was a bit of a loose term, since she was planning on showing them how to break the arm of a bigger opponent using only body weight. While she waited for Nikolai to appear with breakfast, she considered asking him to come one day – was that sort of thing beneath a king? He’d never had the advantage of the Small Science. He could provide a valuable perspective.

She lost the thread of her idea, however, when Nikolai arrived like a whirlwind, promising good news.

“You remembered more of those sugar-dusted pastries from last week?” Alina asked, following him in socked feet to the balcony. Nikolai smiled.

“Of course I did,” he held up the dish. “But I’ve got even better news. Suitors are arriving tomorrow.”

Alina sent him a look, “That’s not good news.”

“They’re not for me.” He sat down and kicked his ankle over his knee with such enthusiasm that Alina got worried. She was about to ask who they were for when it hit her.

“No,” she said.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I am no longer the most prized pig at the festival. I would be jealous, but I can understand. I’ve seen you.”

“Don’t enjoy this,” she warned.

Nikolai continued, ignoring her. “As soon as word spread about your skill with a sword, they packed up their carriages and started on their way. Men are a lot of things, and predictable is one of them.”

“I’m _not_ going to marry a stranger,” Alina snapped.

“And you’re welcome to tell them that,” Nikolai said, picking up his glass of tea. “I’ve already made it clear to my advisors and the court that you will not marry. Not unless it is your choice.” Alina watched him for a moment, torn between wanting to kick him and wanting to hug him. But then he laughed a little and said, “This is going to be _hilarious_. They don’t stand a chance.” She kicked him.

.

She should’ve kicked him harder. He was enjoying this far too much.

Since they were _her_ suitors, it was expected Alina receive them with the king. _Receiving_ meant standing on the palace steps in an uncomfortable dress while she was given gifts she didn’t need and had the same introductory conversation about ten times over.

After suitor number seven, Nikolai, buzzing beside her, leaned towards her. “That one was certainly promising. Twenty-six goats is a _lovely_ gift.”

“What am I going to do with twenty-six goats?” Alina asked.

“Eat them, skin them, and wear their pelts for the wedding, obviously,” Nikolai said, matter-of-fact. “Or did you prefer the one with all the rocks that _probably_ have precious gems in them?”

“It’s all going to the orphanage,” Alina said, “So they better damn well have precious gems in them.”

“I’m sure the children would enjoy a rock quarry to play in,” Nikolai was able to slip in before the next suitor disembarked, a tall man with a weak chin who reminded her vaguely of Vasily. He addressed Nikolai first, as was custom, and then turned to Alina.

She knew exactly what he would say before he said it because every single suitor had said the same thing. First, he’d compliment her looks.

“No report has done you justice. You are more stunning than your patron sun.”

And then he would compliment her work in the war, while avoiding any mention of violence.

“Your courage in defending Ravka is legendary, Sun Summoner.”

And finally, he would make a remark about her potential at wifehood and motherhood.

“Any man in the land would be honored to be your husband and protector. Your children are sure to be heroes.”

Only then would Alina be allowed a word in edgewise, to thank him and see him on his way. But this one deviated from the pattern, adding a new comment from the others.

“You should settle for nothing less than the best,” he said, and then he shot a look to Nikolai before he looked back at her, “My family blood is strong, pure Ravkan stock. The best of the best.”

Alina felt fury flare in her, though next to her, Nikolai’s grin grew a little. It was such a clear slight that she waited a beat for Nikolai to contradict him with a joke. When he didn’t, she glanced at him, finding him still grinning. So she turned back to the suitor herself.

“I have no idea who my parents are or what they did. I grew in an orphanage, fought for the First Army as an average citizen, and have no lineage to trace. I’ve never put value in blood or lineage. I prefer to judge someone on their actions and their character.”

The suitor blinked stupidly at her. She was about to inform him of the dangers of inbreeding, but he continued to the next step, presenting his gift. A chest of dresses for her. She’d rip them at the seams and reuse the silks for children, or give them to Genya, or maybe burn them. She knew which option she was most inclined to at the moment.

The suitor lumbered back into his carriage and Alina’s heart pattered in her chest with her fury. But when she turned to Nikolai, he was still grinning.

“How _dare_ he,” Alina snapped, before the carriage door had even closed. “Insult _you_. Not even because you’re the king, but because you nearly _died_ for this country over and over again, so _he_ could sit in his castle and marry his sister to keep the blood _pure,_ that _absolute oaf._ ”

And then Alina realized she was saying this to _Nikolai_ when she _should’ve_ been saying it to the suitor’s face. She turned on a heel and started towards the carriage, but Nikolai pulled her back before she could take another step.

“He’s from Ryevost. Far enough to have missed the destruction of the Grand Palace under the Darkling, large enough to have grown in a place as grand as this. That kind of arrogance is taught, Alina.”

“It might’ve been _taught_ but he didn’t need to _learn_ it,” she told him, practically snarling.

“All he knows,” Nikolai explained patiently, “Is that the Darkling killed nearly every lord in the city, as well as the next-in-line for the throne. That I have forced my parents into exile and that I am very likely a bastard. With sweet little Ivan coming closer to being of-age, some lords are starting to throw their lots.”

Alina blinked. Ivan, she knew the name. She looked at him questioningly and he explained, “My cousin. Based out of Ryevost, actually, which is probably where your sweetheart gets his ideas. He’s technically next in line and is shaping up to be quite the young man, I hear.”

Alina watched him in disbelief. “He wouldn’t challenge you?”

Nikolai shook his head. “ _He_ wouldn’t. He’s already sworn fealty. Some of these jackals, however, I can’t speak for.” Then he renewed his smile as the next carriage door opened approached, “Now, smile, lovely, we have a job to do.”

.

Alina’s mind was occupied all through the ball. She was lucky her suitors were rather unoriginal; she was able to navigate all the small-talk mostly on auto-pilot, mind whirring. If a random suitor from a seat she’d never heard of had been that bold, what were the lords based in the capital saying? Everything Nikolai had said about his need to marry hadn’t seemed so pressing, until now. Now she was realizing just how vulnerable Nikolai’s reign actually was. She couldn’t stop glancing over at him, smiling easily with members of his court, obliging his own suitors to dances. Whenever she looked over, he glanced back, like he had a sixth sense for knowing when she was looking at him.

As soon as the ball was declared over, Alina shucked off the slippers she was wearing and headed for Nikolai’s offices, where she knew he closed out his days. The guards let her pass without a problem; somewhere along the line, she’d been granted full access to the Grand Palace. Part of her wondered if that meant the king’s apartments, too. That part sounded suspiciously like Genya.

When she entered, Nikolai looked up from his work, sparing her a smile before he looked back down at the papers he was signing.

“So,” he asked, “Did you fall madly in love?” He looked up and smirked at her again. “That one Shu was dreamy. I’m a sucker for such big, brown eyes.”

Alina tugged some of the pins out of her hair, relieved as some of the pressure on her head lessened, hair dropping out of its elaborate up-do into messy braids. Her plan didn’t suddenly seem terrible, so she knew it wasn’t the pinch of all those pins doing her in.

She sat down in front of the desk, watching him continue to work. He was sorting through a stack of papers, signing something every few pages. Nikolai had nice hands. They were hard and worn from work, but soft, too, not dry and brittle like the Darkling’s always had been. She didn’t mind the scars at all; in fact, they made her like his hands even more.

Alina crossed her arms on the desk between them and said, “Marry me.”

Nikolai’s hand, mid-signature, suddenly jerked in a line across the page. There was probably a better way to propose, but she’d never been very gentle. When he looked, though, he was smiling easily at her, “I’m sorry, lovely, but I need to be romanced.”

Alina couldn’t help the smile that quirked her lips. She made her face serious and sat up as she imagined he did, shaking her head a little, a caricature of Nikolai giving orders. “I’m not proposing a love match, just a political alliance. If you’d stop and think for a minute, you’d see it makes good sense for our country.”

“You know I love it when you quote me,” he said, still smiling.

She looked at him more seriously and said, “I would rather be married to a friend than a stranger.”

Nikolai’s smile fell a little. “You don’t need to marry, Alina. Not if you don’t want to.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Alina said. If she’d learned anything from the stream of suitors, it was that. “Not if I want to stay here. Not if I want to keep establishing orphanages and working on social aid, which is what I want to do. Not if I want to keep supporting the Second and First Armies, which is what I _want_ to do.”

“You just want access to the royal treasury,” Nikolai joked, though his smile looked a little odd. Alina smiled back, glad he was being like this, like… not so serious. Just being like… himself. She didn’t know if it was a _great_ idea, but everything she was saying was honest.

“Yeah,” she said, “As queen, I could do a lot more. But I also want to help my friend.”

He reached forward and put his hand out. She took it.

“This is about that lord,” Nikolai said, waiting for her to nod. It was, in part. “I will be just fine,” he promised her. His thumb slid over her knuckles. “Don’t offer if it’s for me, Alina. You deserve more than that.” Then he squeezed her hand and stood, letting her hand go and walking past her without another word.

Alina sat back in her chair and watched after him, feeling worse than she thought she would.

.

Nikolai didn’t come for breakfast the next morning, sending the maid instead. It unsettled her, making her heart tight, even as the maid explained Nikolai’s absence away with a perfect excuse, even though everyone was rising later, with the ball having run so early into the morning. But still, Alina worried, fear churning tightly in her gut.

.

The sound of bodies hitting the mats was oddly comforting, a reminder of a time where things were simpler; a time before she had a collar locked around her neck and a cuff locked around her wrist and her best friend’s blood on her hands.

Alina didn’t think she’d ever get used to the training rooms without Botkin barking orders in his blended accent, but she loved the work – between training and the orphanage, she was finding just how much she loved children, and how much she loved working with them. She wanted to be the bottom hands that Ana Kuya was for her, even in her strictest moments. It was fulfilling, especially after such a sleepless night.

Alina walked up and down the pairs practicing the throw she was teaching, watching their form carefully. If they were going to get injured, this was an easy time to do it.

“Make sure you’re using your whole body,” Alina said, interrupting a pair. “When you rely too much on your arms, you’re bound to pull something. Use your legs. They’re the strongest part of your body.” She waited to watch the correction, nodded, and continued.

She paused at the other side of the room, where Genya had entered and was watching approvingly. “Not too bad,” Genya said, watching them. “One day, they _might_ be an army.” One of the kids stopped to protest and Genya stuck her tongue out at her, making the teen laugh.

They watched the kids go back to work. Without looking at her, Alina said, “I proposed to Nikolai last night.”

She was surprised Genya’s neck didn’t snap with the speed she turned to look at her. “ _What_?” She stopped, said, “I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised.” Genya couldn’t seem to decide what to say, caught between her shock and her desire to be an ass. Alina watched her wrestle with herself before she finally asked, “What did he say?”

“That I shouldn’t propose for his sake.”

Genya groaned. “When did he get _noble_? Wasn’t he a pirate?”

_Privateer_ , Nikolai’s voice popped into her head. Alina nodded. “A pirate.”

“The suitors were really that bad, huh,” Genya said, smiling. Then she stopped and looked at her for a moment, “Is that what you want? To marry Nikolai?”

“Not you too,” Alina sighed, shaking her head. “Why does it seem like such a sacrifice for me to marry him?” Genya’s face didn’t change, so Alina continued, listing a point on each finger. “He’s my friend. It would unite the two armies. Marrying a Grisha… even a former one, would be a point Fjerda and Shu can’t ignore. He wouldn’t have to marry one of these airheads and I wouldn’t have to marry one of these arrogant pricks who expect me to fall all over them. I trust him, I’m comfortable with him. He’s a good person.”

She had more. That her breakfasts with Nikolai were the highlight of her day, and not because of the food. That she’d watched for months as he supported his people and given them aid without hesitation or concern. That he had pushed to be allowed to go into military service, and that he’d apprenticed with common people, that he’d even become a _privateer_ because he believed it would help his country. Probably also because it looked fun, but the point still stood.

That he was so _goddamn hopeful_ that even when she was walking _away_ from civilization, she still ended up here. Like he was a beacon.

Genya watched her for a moment and then said, “What about Mal?”

It was the question that’d been echoing in her head since _Nikolai_ had proposed first and started this whole thing. _What about Mal?_ She would always love Mal. But he wouldn’t want her to be alone forever – especially not on his account.

“Mal’s gone,” Alina said, hugging her arms around herself. “And he would want me to be happy.” She smiled, and said, “Though he’d probably pitch a fit if he knew I’d be trying to marry Nikolai, and that’s all _Nikolai’s_ fault.”

Genya watched her for a moment longer before she turned back to the students in front of them. “I’ll talk to him.”

Alina hadn’t realized that’d been her goal until Genya said it.

Nikolai and Genya had bonded since the Fold. Alina knew it had something to do with the black scars they both hid under gloves and shirtsleeves. Alina had seen Genya’s often when they were deep underground, was intimately familiar with the cracks and scars in her skin, though they’d faded greatly since the Darkling had died. Nikolai’s she’d only seen when they were alone, across a breakfast table or a desk.

It was one of the Darkling’s greatest failures, to treat people like this. Because all it had done was bring them together. He’d united two of his most powerful adversaries, who likely would’ve otherwise hated each other; who likely would’ve never found common ground, if not for the Darkling. And now, one of them was going to advocate for the other to marry _Alina_. The Darkling was rolling in his grave.

.

The next morning, Alina woke an hour before sunrise and paced her room nervously. But Nikolai burst in at the usual time, balancing a teetering tray and looking as at ease as he always did. Nikolai was halfway into an amusing anecdote before he stepped fully into the room, telling her about one of the lords making an ass of himself over being found naked in one of the halls after the ball. He made her laugh before he’d even said good morning, leading them to the breakfast table, and she felt a horrible knot in her chest loosen. She hadn’t ruined everything.

They took up their usual spots, sipping tea and eating. When they hit a lull, Alina glanced over at him. She’d drawn her legs up onto her chair, curled her arms around them. She rested her chin on her knee. They needed to talk about it. She’d suffered far too many miscommunications _not_ to talk about it.

“You’re my best friend,” she told him. “That’s why I asked. I think friendship is probably the best quality to look for in a husband.”

Nikolai looked over at her and shook his head. “ _Saints_ ,” he sighed in disbelief.

“What?” Alina asked, sitting up.

“I just realized you’re my best friend too. How sad.”

Alina kicked him. “Marry me,” she said stubbornly.

Nikolai sighed again, “Lovely, I told you, I need a little romancing -”

Alina stood, intending on walking away, but he grabbed her hand pulled her in front of him. Nikolai’s face was suddenly serious.

“I don’t want to be like my parents,” he admitted, his voice nearly a whisper. Alina felt herself soften, looking down on him.

“We’ve got an advantage,” she told him, smiling a little. “You’re not a monster and I’m stubborn.” She reached up, a little tentative, and put her hand on the side of his face. His hair, longer than he’d kept it on the run, curled around her fingers. He really was handsome. It hit her like a punch to the gut sometimes, just how handsome Nikolai Lanstov was.

He smiled, small but sure, and lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss it. His lips were soft; Alina barely suppressed a shiver. “Alright, then,” he said, an awed kind of tone making its way into his voice. “Let’s get married.” Something swelled in her chest – new and warm.

.

The wedding was held only seven days after their engagement. Nikolai joked it was to make sure she didn’t get cold feet, but she felt certain. She didn’t know how, but she knew she was doing the right thing; the same way she knew how to breathe or how she used to know how to call on her sun. The same way she knew she could trust Genya, after everything.

But she was still nervous. Nerves fluttered around in her stomach all week, but especially on the morning-of, when Genya was at her door instead of Nikolai, and the seamstress dropped off a delicate box for her.

The dress was beautiful – smooth and sharply cut, edged in lace and sewn with golden thread. Genya helped her into it, fastening the little silk buttons and styling her hair.

Genya sat in front of her to do her makeup and caught Alina’s look.

“Nervous?” Genya asked, smile soft. Alina nodded. “Good,” Genya said, “That means you actually care about this.”

The wedding itself was surprisingly intimate: only his most trusted advisors were invited, along with the leaders of the First and Second Armies. Nikolai had insisted upon it. He didn’t want a spectacle.

The Apparat presided over the ceremony, which Alina had known would happen, but seeing him – _smelling him_ – still made her skin crawl. She’d been careful to avoid him since she’d arrived, and she’d harped on Nikolai several times about it, but she knew why he kept him around. Still, she shuddered when he took her hand, gripping Nikolai’s a little too tightly when the Apparat handed it off to him. Nikolai and Alina turned to face one another. He smiled at her, gently, and seeing his own nerves emboldened her a little.

Alina had never actually been to a wedding, so Genya had talked her through it on the morning. They would say vows to one another, which the Apparat would memorize for them. They would exchange rings and kiss. It didn’t sound too complicated, though Alina’s mind kept catching on one piece.

The Apparat began the exchange of vows, saying them for Nikolai to repeat. Nikolai promised to keep a safe home and to provide for her, sliding the gaudy Lanstov Emerald on her finger. She couldn’t help but smile at it; it was a family heirloom, passed between generations, and she had _no_ idea why. It was _hideous_. Nikolai had already promised her a smaller ring for everyday wear and was well-aware of her opinions on the emerald. When he looked up, he was grinning. Laughing at her. Alina thought it probably wouldn’t be very mature to kick him on the altar. Or very queen-like.

Then it was her turn to make her promises, getting the ring from Genya. She took his hand and slid the simple ring on his finger, looking up to find his face suddenly soft. She wasn’t prepared for it. Her stomach swooped and she held the ring in place for a moment, suddenly worried she’d drop it.

Then the moment passed and the Apparat made his speech. He spoke of Nikolai’s rule, that his care for his subjects would be indicative of how he would care for his wife. Alina found herself agreeing with him, albeit grudgingly, and actually glad that was what he was saying. She wanted the advisors to see it. She wanted the advisors to see how she agreed.

But then the Apparat turned to her. Something in his look made dread ripple through her, tangling up with her nerves. He spoke of Alina’s sainthood, which made her prickle uncomfortably, and ended by stating she would make a wonderful mother. It irritated her. He hadn’t said anything about Nikolai being a good father.

Finally, the Apparat finished the vows and invited them to kiss. Alina turned to Nikolai, thinking they probably should’ve talked about this. Because, late at night, she’d spent more time thinking about their almost-kiss than she’d thought about anything she’d done with the Darkling. More and more, she’d thought about their almost-kiss more than anything she’d done with Mal.

She expected Nikolai to kiss her quickly, almost perfunctory. But he lingered; pressing his fingers to her cheek, his mouth was warm and soft beneath hers. It felt like a reassurance, a physical vow to go along with the others he’d said. The kiss was a promise.

Then he pulled back, fingers still on her cheek. She was out of breath. He was watching her like he had during the exchange of the rings, pupils blown wide and looking a little breathless himself. Alina’s mind was still on the kiss. She licked her lips and his eyes dropped to them, like he was thinking about it too.

.

While the ceremony itself was quiet, not even Nikolai could escape the necessity of a giant feast and ball. Everyone in the palace was invited, along with seas of lords and ladies from across Ravka, as well as Fjerdan and Shu ambassadors. Alina started to suspect the quick date was to avoid giving people enough time to come, but many of them had pulled it off, nonetheless. Apparently, the wedding between the Sun Summoner and the young King of Ravka was going to be the event of the year.

All of their respective suitors came as well, forced by decorum, and the irony gave a sharp twist to Alina’s smile. When they walked in, arm in arm, Alina was sure to find the suitor from Ryevost and smile widely at him. It was extremely satisfying, especially when she caught Nikolai shaking his head at her.

The upshot of it being her own wedding feast was that she wasn’t expected to dance with anyone except Nikolai. She drank _kvas_ with Genya, and laughed at Nikolai when he made a face at them for it, hand curled protectively around his brandy. She watched David lead Genya onto the dancefloor with a smile that seemed to become easier and easier for him, and she even saw Zoya chatting up one of Nikolai’s old suitors. Then Nikolai was hauling her onto the dancefloor whenever he could, eager for the excuse to avoid talking to whichever lord was still trying to politic on his _wedding day_ , making her laugh as he spun her faster and faster away from whatever advisor popped up next.

She had _fun_ , which she honestly hadn’t been expecting. Near the end of the night, when most of the party goers had already gone, Alina leaned her head on Nikolai’s shoulder and shut her eyes while they swayed. Soon they’d be escorted to the royal apartments, where they would share a bed. Butterflies started up in her stomach all over again. But then the hand Nikolai had on her back adjusted, pulling her closer, and she felt the rush of confidence again. She was glad she’d married him. She’d felt the certainty of it all day, and she kept feeling it now. She trusted him.

.

Genya and one of Nikolai’s attendants accompanied them to their apartments, where Nikolai directed Alina into a room that she could get undressed in. Genya helped her back out of the gown and into a simple cotton nightdress. Genya pulled the pins from her hair and cleaned her face of makeup. When she finished, she caught Alina’s chin in her hand and looked her in the eye.

“You’re right,” Genya said, “He’s a good man. He’ll take care of you. It’s what you deserve, Alina.”

Alina was overwhelmed with affection for her suddenly, reaching forward and wrapping herself around her. She was so grateful for Genya, for everything they’d survived. And she was glad, too. She was so glad it was Nikolai.

Genya left out a side door, leaving Alina to walk into the main apartment by herself. She spotted her sword, placed carefully on one of the sitting room tables, and knew her things had been moved from her apartments sometime during the day. Nikolai had told her that his parents kept separate apartments; he’d offered the same to her, but she remembered his fear and declined. She told him sharing a room with him hardly seemed a hardship; especially since it meant she’d get her breakfast sooner.

Alina wandered towards the back of the apartment, where a door opened into a large room that contained a huge bed, a dressing table, and Nikolai. He was wearing night clothes – loose pants and a shirt. She paused in the doorway, taking in the fact that he was her husband. She was a queen. It was… so strange. She tried to image where she’d been a year before – on the run, somewhere, sleeping in the woods or underground. And now she was a queen. She hugged herself.

Nikolai was looking at her too. His hair was mussed, flat in the circle of where his crown usually sat, and his clothes, though still made of fine material, were the simplest she’d seen him in.

“What side do you prefer?” He asked. Alina looked at the bed, then at the wide windows on the side opposite from him.

“Window side,” she said, “If you don’t mind.” Nikolai smiled.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. She walked, barefoot, around to the other side of the bed. It was huge; they could keep an ocean between them, if they wanted. But Alina still hesitated before she sat, looking down at the bed and feeling apprehension wash over her.

Nikolai noticed. He sat carefully on his side and said her name. When she looked at him, his expression was open. Gentle as she’d ever seen him. “This has been a big day. If you want, I can go to the sitting room. I’ll move before the servants come in the morning. No one will know.”

Alina shook her head. “No. It’s not that.” She held her hands in front of her and, after hesitating once more, she sat on the bed. She drew her legs up after her, moving to face him. “I,” she stopped, swallowed. “I need to tell you something.”

Nikolai said quietly, “We need to wait at least twenty-four hours before we ask for a divorce, lovely.” Alina laughed lightly, shaking her head. She looked at the space between them. There was less space when they sat to eat together. She scooted towards him and held out her hand. He took it, and she brought it down to her lap, wrapping her second hand around it too. She couldn’t quite look at him, so she looked at his hand.

“Do you remember,” she started, having rehearsed this in her mind over and over again, unsure if she would actually go through with telling him. But now, sitting in front of him with his messy hair and bare feet, it seemed a lot more doable. “Do you remember when I told you that I could see the Darkling? That we had a connection that allowed him to speak to me? To see me?”

She glanced up quickly to catch his nod, then back down.

“I – he could do other things. Touch me.” She cleared her throat and studied his knuckles, the bumps they made in his skin. “There was a stretch – when we were in the palace, actually, when I was in his rooms – where I woke every night with him watching me. Sometimes he’d appear when I was walking the grounds or when we were on the run and he’d just... stare. Sometimes he did more than stare.” She held his hand a little more tightly. “Once I woke up and I thought – I thought Mal was in the room. It was dark and it – he made himself sound like Mal. And – I thought I was kissing _Mal_. But it wasn’t Mal.”

She was talking about the Darkling and Mal far more than she’d meant to on her wedding night. Alina glanced up at Nikolai, whose face was outraged suddenly.

“I’m going to dig him up and kill him again,” Nikolai said, in a rushed, angry breath.

Alina found it in herself to smile. “I burned the body, remember?” She rubbed her hand over his, trying hard not to apologize, because she had nothing to apologize _for,_ but still feeling the need. “Do you mind if we keep a candle burning? Just for tonight. So if I wake up – I want to see it’s you.”

“Of course,” Nikolai said. Slowly, he moved closer, so he could lift the hand holding his and press a kiss to it. “As long as you want, okay?” She nodded. He reached up with his free hand and put his fingers to her cheek, like he’d done at the altar. They were still figuring out these little intimacies, but he’d seemed to notice that she’d liked this before.

“You looked beautiful today. I meant to say it earlier, but I’d look at you and I… kept forgetting what I was going to say,” he said, so earnestly Alina felt herself blush, like she was a teenager all over again. Then he said, “One of the cooks dropped off a bottle of that sweet wine.”

Alina felt herself break out into a smile, looking around. “Really?” The sweet wine was imported in from the furthest west of Novyi Zem and was a delicacy, even for kings. Nikolai nodded, releasing her hands and sliding off the bed, retrieving the bottle from the sitting room. He opened it with a flourish, against the edge of the fine dresser.

He winked at her look, “Learned that one privateering.”

“Pirating.”

“That is not as funny as you think it is,” but he was grinning.

He settled back on the bed and they passed the bottle back and forth, talking into the wee hours of the morning. He told her how he’d been terrified of horses all his childhood, after one of Vasily’s prized racers clocked him in the shoulder when he was eight. It still ached sometimes, he told her, letting her fingers probe gently along the line of it.

She told him how she’d once climbed the roof of Keramzin to avoid the wrath of Ana Kuya, though she no longer remembered what it was over. Alina had gotten lucky, though, when the sudden arrival of the Duke drove whatever misdeed she’d committed from Ana Kuya’s mind.

Nikolai joked with her until the early hours of the morning, reminding her of their breakfasts, when they could be together so easily. Eventually, they finished the wine and they laid down, sleepy from the alcohol and the day. They laid facing each other and Alina felt her pulse spike, suddenly terrified to close her eyes. When she reached out, Nikolai took her hand easily, leaving their hands linked between them.

When she did fall asleep and wake up again, she felt a sharp dose of panic, convinced she’d dreamt it all – the end of the war, the end of the connection. But when she opened her eyes, she saw Nikolai’s face by the light of her candle, and she felt herself calm. Alina set her other hand atop of his and fell back to sleep.

.

Nikolai wanted to give her a honeymoon, but Alina saw the way he itched at the thought of leaving the court, and she worried, too, about the orphanage and the Second Army – the orphanage, in particular, was in the last few weeks of construction, and things were popping up more quickly. They compromised and went to a set of lakes just outside Os Alta, and planned only to stay for two days.

Alina _knew_ what the honeymoon was _supposed_ to be for, but they hadn’t talked about… that yet. Alina was in no rush. Nikolai didn’t seem to be, either, since he didn’t even mention it on their wedding night. They spent the carriage ride bickering good naturedly, poking at each other like children, and something about being around Nikolai made Alina feel – _young_ , but not in a vulnerable or childlike way. She didn’t feel a hundred around him, like she was carrying the world. She thought he might feel the same.

Upon their arrival, Alina found herself on the edge of the lake, standing across from Nikolai (her _husband_ ) while he rolled up his sleeves. He’d claimed on the ride over that his hand-to-hand experience was superior.

“I’ve been trained by both the First _and_ Second Armies,” Alina had protested, “ _And_ I grew up in an orphanage. You learn a few things.”

“I was the second son of a king,” Nikolai had said, “I spent half a decade training in the field.”

“Trailed by your guards,” Alina had drawled, which was what had Nikolai standing and challenging her. Now they were stepping in a circle, watching one another carefully.

Alina lunged first, feinting towards him, like she was going to tackle him around his middle, then moving left as he tried to dodge, hooking her ankle around his and bringing him down. But Nikolai caught her around the waist as he fell and pulled her with him, rolling them over and pinning her wrists by her head. He smiled down at her.

“Don’t feel bad,” he said arrogantly, “I’ve had years of training.”

Alina brushed her knee against his groin, showing him just where it was positioned. His hips jerked back instinctively and she used his shift in weight to flip them, setting her forearm against his neck. Her hair slipped around them like a curtain.

“Don’t feel bad,” she said, leaning down. “I’ve had years of training.”

Nikolai broke out into a grin. “You know I love it when you quote me.”

.

Upon their return to the castle, they took up their regular schedules, including breakfast together first thing in the morning. Except this time, Nikolai paused before he left, then stepped around the table to press a dry kiss to her cheek. Alina barely had the time to look up at him before he left, sweeping out of the room. She thought he was smiling.

.

Being married to Nikolai was… surprisingly easy. Of course, she had new expectations as queen – new lunches she had to attend and meetings she went to daily with Nikolai. But they still took breakfast together every morning, out on the huge balcony of the royal quarters – they just woke up together first, in the same _bed_. Alina still went to the orphanage every day, helping with last-minute work before move-in day, and she still helped train the Second Army during the week, but now she returned to the Grand Palace to take dinner with Nikolai, usually with one of the lords or ladies, but sometimes just the two of them.

During one of their dinners, they were hosting a handful of lords and ladies after establishing a business deal. There was strawberry ice cream for dessert, but Alina barely noticed her own. She was busy watching Nikolai, pulling the spoon slowly from his mouth before turning it over to lick the bottom.

The woman to her left asked her a question and Alina turned, blinking herself out of it.

.

The day the orphanage finally opened, Alina spent it going back and forth, helping the children into carriages and moving their meager belongings into the rooms. Nikolai wanted a whole ceremony, wanted to use it as an opportunity to endear the people to their queen, but Alina turned him down. She knew he meant well, but she wasn’t going to make these children any more of a spectacle than they already were. She remembered what it was like to be the orphan, always looked on with polite, disinterested pity.

Instead, Alina helped the staff with the children, finding their rooms and showing them the new classrooms and play areas. One of the teachers presented Alina with a folder of pictures drawn by the children in thanks. She clutched it to her chest and tried not to cry at such a thoughtful gesture.

Towards the end of the day, a carriage pulled up, and a hooded figure disembarked. He was dressed in his old privateering garb, a loose white shirt and tight dark pants, no crown on his head. Alina smiled when she saw him from the lawn, approaching with a pair of guards.

The teachers Alina had been speaking with dropped in low bows, but he pulled them up, smiling.

“I’m no king today,” he told them, “Just a proud husband.”

Warmth pooled in her belly. It took all she had not to kiss him on the spot, an instinct that was becoming less surprising each time. Alina took his hand instead, smiling when he lifted her knuckles to kiss them, as was becoming his habit.

The teachers led him on a tour of the grounds, during which he passed out gifts for the children from sacks carried by his guard. Afterwards, she sent her guards with her horse ahead of her, choosing to ride with Nikolai on the way back, sitting next to him in the carriage rather than across from him.

“What’s next?” He asked her. She glanced at him and found him smiling. “We both know you’re not _done_.”

She looked forward again, starting to smile, too. “Well, I’ve visited the schools, and they’re in desperate need of expansion…”

He surprised her by kissing the side of her head, almost as if he couldn’t help himself. She turned and smiled at him. “Whatever you need,” he said, looking down on her. Alina’s eyes dropped to his mouth.

The carriage door swung open, the steward holding his hand up to help her out. She could’ve kicked him.

.

Alina walked into the bedroom, exhausted after such a long day. She pulled her hair out of its braids absently, pausing with her hand on the door’s threshold to push down her stocking. She’d been so tired, she’d changed her dress into her nightgown but had forgotten about the stockings, pulled up to her thighs. Alina rolled the first stocking down, hair dipping over her shoulder, before she shifted and did the same on her other leg. When she finally straightened, she spotted Nikolai, sitting on their bed with a book in his hands. But he wasn’t looking at the book.

Alina flushed, casting her eyes away. She walked to her side of the bed without saying a word and Nikolai dipped his chin down, directing his attention to the book. But when she glanced at him, he was looking at her.

.

A memorial was erected on palace grounds to commemorate those who had died on the Fold. Alina knew it had been in the works for months before she’d even arrived at the palace, but it was an incredible thing to see, now it was finally completed – a combination of non-Grisha artists and Fabrikators had worked together to build the statues, which stared defiantly forward and held little fires in their palms. The man who stood in the front and center of the cluster of statues looked far too like Mal to be a coincidence.

Alina brushed away her tears quickly, suddenly glad she’d come down alone to look at it. She wondered if this was another wedding gift – Nikolai had already given her what he’d said were the customary things, a box of dresses and jewellery, as well as a lovely blade made of Grisha steel. Including Mal… he and Nikolai had never been close.

She touched her wedding ring – the smaller, everyday one she wore, which had been another wedding gift – and thought of what she’d given him. New weapons, as well as a pirate hat with a large feather than made him laugh. She’d also given him a delicate medallion of a sun, on a long cord so he could wear it under his shirt. Alina had seen it on occasion in bed, when it slipped out of his sleep shirt. He seemed to value the pendant most of all. But she wondered if there was something else – something else she could give him, since his own generosity didn’t end. Irritated, she wondered what in the world you got a _king_.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed the Corporalki bursting from the palace, running towards her.

“ _Moya tsaritsa_ ,” the guard said, “We’ve caught an assassin in the outer city. You need to come with us.” One took her arm and the other led the way, hands crackling with magic. Alina drew her sword and followed them, into the bowels of the palace and in the direction of Nikolai’s office, where she could hear him shouting. When they opened the door, she could see two guards trying to hold him, trying to explain he needed to stay there for his safety.

She was about to tease Nikolai for causing so much trouble, but then she stopped him. Nikolai stopped fighting the guards, sidestepping them to take her face in his hands, searching her for injury. Once satisfied, he stepped forward, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes. It struck her suddenly how much it would hurt him if something happened to her. Her joke died in her throat and she shut her eyes too, curling her fingers into his coat.

.

The latest assassination attempt changed a few things for Alina. Especially since the assassin had claimed _she_ was the target before he’d been sent back to Shu in a box, chopped into little pieces. She now had guards assigned to her whenever she left the palace – even to go to the grounds – and more Grisha were placed throughout the palace on access points.

Nikolai was spitting angry for days afterwards, his temper wild and reminding her of Sturmhond and the short fuse he’d had for the Darkling. He addressed the contingent of palace guards personally. He cursed himself for not establishing a permanent Queen’s Guard, and Alina had to shout him out of taking _his_ King’s Guard and assigning them all to her instead. After a tense night spent in their apartments, Alina wrote to Tamar and Tolya, asking if they’d be interested in re-establishing her guard. Nikolai assigned someone from his guard in the meantime, allowing them to reach a compromise that settled things on both sides.

Beyond the new concerns for her safety, new thoughts were appearing in her mind, more and more, especially after she’d seen Nikolai commanding his throne room with such passion. And most of those thoughts had to do with sex.

It became the elephant in the room. At least for Alina, it did. She had no idea what Nikolai was thinking, but she did know she found herself watching the little triangle of chest she could see when he was in his sleep shirt or thought about carding her fingers into his hair and _pulling_ on more than one occasion. A couple of times, she allowed him to catch her staring, to catch her deliberate looks. But he was either oblivious or uninterested because he never so much as hinted to it, saying goodnight and falling asleep safely on his side of the bed, occasionally with his hand outstretched to her.

But she didn’t think it was disinterest. She _didn’t._ Because sometimes – sometimes she caught him looking at her, too. Sometimes he’d pick up her hand and press it to his mouth while he poured over papers, almost absently. Sometimes, when she walked around in one of her shorter nightdresses, she saw his eyes following her legs like they were the first he’d ever seen.

Alina decided to ask Genya about it. She left her guards outside the Small Palace war room while they reclined inside, sitting in soft easy chairs by the fire. It made her smirk a little bit, to think that she was in a war room planning how to jump her husband – _Nikolai Lanstov_ , of all people.

“You haven’t had sex yet?” Genya said, shocked. “You’ve been married two _months_.”

Alina nodded, “I think he’s being noble.” Genya groaned and went for a corner cabinet. She retrieved _kvas_ from it, as well as two glasses. She poured them each a finger, clinking hers against Alina’s.

Genya took a drink and said, “The first time I went down on David, he asked if I was seducing him. _While_ I had his dick in my mouth.”

Alina laughed. “What’d you say?”

“My mouth was a little busy, _moya tsaritsa_ ,” Genya answered tartly, and Alina laughed again.

“ _Men_ ,” Alina said, “They’re so clueless.”

Genya took a drink. She said, “You’re going to have to talk to him. I’m not helping you with this one.”

Alina picked up her untouched glass and poured her _kvas_ into Genya’s cup instead. “I know,” she said, standing. “Wish me luck.”

Genya picked up her glass and tipped it in Alina’s direction. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

.

Alina found him in his office, tinkering with something he was building with David. Another flying menace, she guessed. Nikolai put it aside when she came in, smiling.

“How’s Genya,” he asked, knowing it was one of her days for the Second Army.

“She’s well,” Alina said, walking around the desk. He was pushed back from it a bit, so she could fit herself to sit on the desk in front of him, rather than in her usual chair. He quirked his eyebrows.

“Did I forget something?” He asked, “This feels pointed.”

“Are we going to have sex?” She asked. He looked the same way he had when she proposed: like she’d hit him over the head with a bat. Marriage hadn’t taught her anything about tact.

“I,” he started, stopped, and looked up at her. “Heirs aren’t strictly required. My cousin – he’ll be a good ruler. So there’s no need to–”

“I’m not asking about heirs,” Alina said patiently. “I’m asking about sex.”

Nikolai watched her for a beat. “You said it would be a political alliance. Not a love match.”

Alina resisted the urge to kick him. “I was _quoting_ you, you ass.”

“I love it when you quote me,” he said, automatically. Alina shook her head at him. He was lucky she was so patient.

Alina reached forward and brushed her fingers on his jaw. He had a bit of stubble growing after the long day. She wondered what it would feel like on her skin.

“I’m asking because I want to have sex with you,” she told him bluntly, “If that’s something you want.” She felt a blush wash over her whole body, but she ignored it, watching her husband. 

Nikolai answered her by standing, taking her face in his hands, and kissing her, slow and deep. He took his time with it, and Alina felt this kiss all the way to her toes. Like the kiss on the altar, this kiss was a promise. But it was a much different promise.

It started languid, but grew more intense, until they were both pulling at the ties on their clothes. Alina started unlacing her pants and Nikolai helped her, both almost frenzied as he picked her up so she could pull them down, setting her back on the table and dropping to his knees in front of her.

.

Alina kept her eyes shut, breathing hard as she came down again. She opened her eyes to see Nikolai raising up from his knees, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“I’ve got condoms in our room,” he told her. He grinned slowly, making a flush of warmth rush over her. “Since you don’t want to talk about heirs.”

Alina laughed, reaching forward and pulling him to her, pressing a kiss into his neck before she slid off the desk and pulled her pants back up, letting him tie them for her. Then he grabbed her hand and pulled her, nearly running, back to their apartments.

.

Genya ran into her in the palace the next morning. She swept her eyes up and down Alina before raising her eyebrows. “You talked?”

Alina nodded, smiling, “We talked.”

.

Her new projects tackling the schools of Os Alta became overwhelming. She still had business at the orphanage, and she was trying to help rebuild two of the largest schools in the city before she tackled the handful of smaller ones. Nikolai put her in contact with Lady Nadia, the woman he’d originally intended to care for the orphanage, and Alina took to her immediately.

Lady Nadia already had a small charitable organization that cared for the children of Os Alta, so Alina threw her support behind it, attracting more ladies and more money quickly. Alina and Lady Nadia selected local ladies to form a council, each one shrewder and more astute than the last. Soon there was talk or reaching out to friends in other parts of the country, to support the orphanages first in the other cities then expand to the countryside.

Alina spent most of her free time writing letters, using her titles to earn support across the country. She would’ve preferred to be on the ground, building the homes herself, making deals like she did for the orphanage, but Nadia explained she could do the most good from her writing table, that every effort needed a figurehead. Alina understood _that_ more than most. Soon, Nikolai’s office gained an extra desk, and she spent hours writing, using every lesson Nikolai had given her to be persuasive and charming and just a little bit biting.

.

In the soft candlelight of their rooms, Nikolai’s hair looked like spun gold. She carded her fingers through it while he looked up at her, head laid on her bare thighs. They were still working out these little intimacies, but they were learning. Nikolai was learning that she wanted to be touched and held and that he was welcome to it; Alina was learning how to return the gesture, that it made his eyes droop when she carded her fingers through his hair, that it made him smile when she linked their fingers unprompted.

“ _Moya_ Alina,” he said, sounding smug. “I have a favour to ask, dear wife.”

“Oh no,” Alina said, though she thought it was probably undercut by the way she kept stroking his hair.

“Come to the Lord’s Council tomorrow,” he asked, blinking his thick eyelashes at her. “They’re dreadfully boring and I need someone to keep me awake.”

Alina had to agree. Most of the Lords were playacting at knowing what they were doing, and if one did have a concern to bring up, it was usually ridiculous: a petty squabble over a cow’s length of land, or a perceived insult based on someone’s failure to provide the right wine at dinner. The real business was conducted at the Lady’s Council, which was held half as often, and was twice as productive. But tradition said the King would give them an audience each week. Alina didn’t envy Nikolai for it.

“And watching you glare at Andrei for an hour would certainly keep me entertained,” Nikolai said, grinning up at her.

Alina narrowed her eyes. “And why shouldn’t I? He’s rude and arrogant and he’s caused you far more grief than you deserve. You deserve a little, but that’s what I’m here for.”

Nikolai smirked, holding her hand to his chest. “You’re incredibly sexy when you’re defending my honor,” he told her. Alina felt herself blush. She wasn’t used to comments like that. She felt the childish need to one-up him.

“If we’re on the topic of sexy,” she said, smiling when Nikolai’s attention grew a little more pointed. She leaned towards him, “I wouldn’t mind seeing Sturmhond around here.”

Nikolai sat up, moving to look at her. “ _Really_?” He said, delighted grin overtaking his features.

“I guess I have a thing for pirates,” she said. She watched him wrestle with himself for a moment, wanting to correct her, but he leaned forward and kissed her instead, making her laugh against his mouth.

“Privateer,” he mumbled against her mouth, making her laugh again.

.

The council meeting began as dully as she’d expected. Alina watched with a raised eyebrow as one of the lords launched into a complaint over a point that he’d already complained about at three previous council meetings. A neighbouring lord had built a fence he didn’t approve of separating their lands; this lord wanted to tear down the fence and build a new one, half a foot higher, at the expense of the neighbour.

Nikolai and the other lords let him go on, but after ten minutes, Alina couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I wonder if creating an addition to add to the fence would be adequate,” she tried first, as diplomatic as she was willing to be. The lord sputtered.

“My lady,” he said, eyes flicking to Nikolai. Under the table, she put her hand on Nikolai’s knee. _Do not help me_ , it said. “I understand you are only trying to help but, well, it would look a little silly.”

Alina nodded, humming. “Oh, yes, I realize that. But I wonder what’s more ridiculous: an addition to a fence or spending valuable time arguing about something so trivial?” She smiled, for the sake of the lessons Nikolai had repeated to her. “Especially since, according to my council for Children’s Welfare, your estate sends its orphans to a neighbouring estate rather than provide a home for support yourself.” Alina tilted her head at him. “Or am I mistaken?”

The lord blinked at her. Alina wondered if these meetings were really as boring as she’d initially thought.

.

The Shu’s reply to receiving their assassin in a shoebox was surprisingly bashful. Nikolai was openly puzzled by the response, having fully understood that chopping up the assassin into little pieces probably hadn’t been the most _diplomatic_ response. But their spies soon explained: apparently, the two assassination attempts had blended in public rumor, and the story that reached the Shu was that the Sun Summoner had sensed the threat and used a streak of golden light to cut off the assassin’s head. The rumor also went that the Sun Summoner was rather incensed over the attack, especially so close to her wedding.

Shu Tan’s official stance was a desire for peace. Their ambassador was on their way to discuss terms, if the Ravkans were open to it.

A few weeks later, Fjerda, catching wind of the burgeoning peace and the reasons for it, rushed to send their own delegates and offers of peace. Likely, they didn’t want to be the only front Ravka was fighting on, after losing the need to fight the Shu _and_ the Fold. Alina had read Nikolai’s reply; it had been stunningly worded, beautiful and tactful, with the barest hint of a mention of that first assassination attempt Alina had survived to give it a little teeth.

Alina sat in on the peace talks, occasionally contributing, but mostly just listening. There were certain guidelines to these, guidelines that she was still learning, but she was an excellent pupil. She read what she could find and Nikolai explained what she couldn’t later, when they were alone. But in the moment, between the two of them, she was often the better judge on matters concerning Grisha and even religious matters, after spending so long at the side of the Apparat.

The talks were long, and slow, and full of compromises that made her skin itch, but they were doing it. They were picking apart the seams of the Darkling’s legacies; they were making peace.

.

Alina began to hold lunches for the staff, taking one group of them each week to talk to and learn about. Nikolai knew the staff that had survived the purge, as they’d been around as he’d grown, but Alina was having trouble learning them all; she contrived the lunches as a way to do so. Not only was she their queen, but she was sorely aware of the fact that, in another life, she could’ve been one of them.

The lunches had an additional upshot she hadn’t expected. After meeting with the laundry staff, she rushed to Nikolai’s offices. Flinging open the door, she didn’t wait for a greeting, but instead blurted, “You did not tell me you were part of a _choir_ for the better part of ten years.”

Nikolai narrowed his eyes, “Who told you that?” Alina grinned.

.

Alina pressed her back against the wall, watching Nikolai instruct the Grisha students as they lined up on the mats. He’d agreed to her request for a guest lecture and showed up in the same loose white shirt and tight pants that reminded her so much of Sturmhond. They’d have to talk about it later.

He came to teach the teenaged group, who gathered eagerly together when he arrived. Nikolai had asked David to help with his demonstration, so Genya had detached herself from whatever else she was supposed to be doing and brought a snack. “This is going to be delightful,” she said, smiling.

Nikolai didn’t immediately explain the throw. Instead, he told the students the story behind it – that he’d been taught the throw by another privateer on the True Sea, a legendary woman named Bridgers, who had a hook for a hand and wore a vest made of a skeleton’s ribs. The kids ate it up, inching closer as he described the fierce woman and how he came to be her ally, teaming up to take on a common enemy aboard her ship _Punisher_.

Only once their eyes were wide as saucers did he call David forward, demonstrating the throw in one fluid motion before stopping to break it down into steps. Once he’d run it through a couple of times, he had the students split into pairs and start practising the movements together before they got permission to try the throw.

Genya went to David, helping him off the floor with a soft smile. Nikolai clapped him on the shoulder, smiling. Alina turned, moving through the students and watching their forms carefully.

Nikolai approached from the opposite direction, looking far too focused on the students. Especially for the way he stopped directly next to her, chin in his hand. Alina looked at him, taking in the light perspiration and the triangle of chest his shirt put on display. Her necklace had escaped his shirt; the simplified sun hung over his heart. Alina reached forward and plucked it off his chest, dropping it back into his shirt before she planted her palm over where it landed.

Nikolai waggled his eyebrows at her, confirming the outfit had been no mistake. She bit back a smirk. She let her finger trail the edge of the V his shirt made before turning, folding her hands behind her and trying to ignore the way her finger burned.

They spent the rest of the class helping the students, circling as they escalated into controlled throws. By the end of the class, most of the students were performing it properly, laughing as their partners threw them over their shoulders. They crowded around Nikolai, all eager to tell him of their success. Alina watched as he got on their level and smiled with them, congratulating them and promising to come again. It made something funny happen in her throat.

.

Some nights, Alina woke to the bed trembling, to Nikolai crying in his sleep. He would be drenched in sweat and mumbling intelligibly, knuckles white around the sheets. The first time it happened Alina nearly called for the physician, back in the first timid month of their marriage, when she didn’t know their boundaries.

Now she knew how to wake him without startling him, to let him cling to her and shake until it passed. Usually, he was silent. But, one night, something made him start to whisper into her collarbone.

“I knew who I was,” he said, trying to explain his nightmare and the root of it. “I recognized things – that night, when you showed me the ring, for example.” And then he stopped, cut himself off. “Sometimes I dream that I attacked you. I remember the instinct. It was like… it was like the Darkling could see I was looking at you, and he wanted me to get you.” His arms tightened around her, his voice soft and openly grieving. “I thought I’d never get out. I thought he’d be in my head forever.”

“He’s gone,” Alina told him. “He’s dead. I killed him and I’d kill him again. He can never hurt you again.”

Nikolai’s breath was shuddering. “I love you,” he said suddenly, “I loved you then, too, and I was so afraid he’d make me hurt you. But I couldn’t… I had nowhere else to go. Just to you.”

Alina shifted down so she could kiss him then, gentle and slow. She told him, “You can always come home to me.” She pressed her forehead against his – remembering what it was like to slide her knife into the Darkling, what it was like to drive her sword into the neck of the assassin – and said, “I’ll always protect you, Nikolai Lanstov.”

.

Lukas Lindgren, Fjerdan ambassador, was so pompous Alina nearly went cross-eyed with it.

Alina didn’t know enough about the Fjerdan noble hierarchy to detangle Lindgren’s exact standing, but she’d gathered he was high-ranking and closely related to Fjerdan royalty. He was smart enough to avoid outright insult – though he’d watched Alina closely, he hadn’t remarked on the presence of a Grisha at the bargaining table – but he’d made up for it in brags. He was twelve sons who were on their way to having twelve sons themselves. All twelve of his sons married quiet, hardworking women (and here he glanced at Alina, like she wasn’t doing the very job he was). He lived in a house larger than the Grand Palace itself. Upon witnessing their First and Second Armies training together on the grounds, Lindgren called them _adorable_.

Nikolai and Alina started making bets on how many times he’d mention his family estate in a day. The rules grew complex as the weeks dragged on – they weren’t allowed to say anything that may cause him to bring it up, such as asking questions about it, but they _could_ try to draw comments out tangentially, such as by offhandedly mentioning dinner plans, which would bring him to asking about the architecture of the dining hall or the state of the kitchen equipment, which would then lead him discussing the recent renovations he completed on his estate.

“No _way_ ,” Alina argued as they walked back to their apartment at the end of the day. Nikolai caught her flying hand easily, winding it through his arm, and she continued without missing a beat, “You basically _asked_ about the number of ice sculptures he has, that does not count.”

“I merely tried to… _point_ his attention to the display,” Nikolai nodded his thanks at the guards who opened their apartment doors, but Alina was too wrapped up in her outrage, throwing her free hand up again.

“You ordered an _ice sculpture_ to come in with dinner,” Alina said. “That’s _cheating_. And an abuse of power.”

“Not if I happen to know our sculptor happens to be sweet on a certain gorgeous queen.”

Alina shook her head at him, “That’s _exactly_ what that means.” She turned to him, rising up on her tiptoes to better get in his face. “It doesn’t count. That means _I_ win.”

Nikolai grinned and Alina recognized a challenge when she saw it. He tugged her against him, smirking down at her and tracing her jaw with a finger, “I can think of a game we both win.”

Alina let him bend his head down to press a kiss to her neck. She shut her eyes, head tilted up to the ceiling, and let herself enjoy the feeling, the ease they were learning with each other.

“You’re just sore I won again,” she told him, and the feeling of his laugh on her skin was almost better than the kiss.

.

Genya and David married during a snowstorm, with fewer witnesses than even Alina and Nikolai had. The reception, however, roared through the entire Little Palace, to David’s clear dismay. Children shrieked and giggled through the halls, high on cake and too much sugar, while teens danced clumsily in the formal style, laughing together. Genya and David disappeared right after dinner, but Nikolai and Alina stayed well into the night, dancing without the constraints of formality, taking the rare night of freedom from politics or strategy.

Deep into the night, Alina began to feel overwarm, coming down from the _kvas_ and the dancing. She left Nikolai chatting with some Grisha and stepped outside to find it had stopped snowing, gasping in deep breaths of cold air. Her guards hovered ten paces behind her, melting into the shadows, while she stepped into the gardens.

He found her out in front of the memorial, staring up at Mal’s pale face, illuminated by the everlasting fire in his palms. His feet crunched in the snow and his breath came out in white bursts. Alina slid her hand into Nikolai’s, realizing how warm it was compared to hers, how long she must’ve been staring at the statue.

They were quiet for a few moments, both contemplating Mal’s fierce look, before Alina spoke.

“The longer I’m married to you,” she told him suddenly, “The more certain I am that I would have never married Mal.” She felt Nikolai’s look, curious and cautious, like he wanted to warn her against whatever she was going to say. But Alina continued stubbornly on, “Mal never loved me when I was happiest. And the opposite – I never loved him when he was happiest. He wanted me the way I was before I was ever a Grisha. And I wanted the Mal I met at Keramzin. We weren’t in love with each other. We were in love with our innocence. We wanted it back.”

She sighed, watching the statue still. Alina had been thinking these things for months now. But it was only now, facing her friend, that she felt like she could voice them. “Everything we did just made the other more insecure. We were so jealous and terrified and it was so _painful_ and… that’s what I thought love was. Needing to… _possess_ someone.”

Alina lifted Nikolai’s hand to her chest, turning to look at him. “I tried to walk away from all of this. That had been my intention when I left the Fold, but I still ended up here.” She smiled, a little watery. “You’re so bright, Nikolai. I can go so far into my head, but you pull me out every time.” She pressed his hand to her heart, “I love _you_. Not as a consolation prize or… in relation to anything else. You’re the only reason. Okay?”

She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. “I don’t want you to think I’m only married to you because he’s not here. I absolutely don’t believe that, so you shouldn’t, either.”

Nikolai opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Instead, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around her, and she could feel him trembling. Nikolai Lanstov, rendered speechless. And all it took was to tell him he was loved.

Alina stood up on her tiptoes and whispered, “I think that speech deserves a song. What do you say, choir boy?” Nikolai laughed, bending suddenly and hoisting her up in a bridal carry, her laugh ringing loudly out into the dark as he carried her away.

.

The peace talks dragged on. More than once, they were sat in at that damned table well into the night, cautious not to bend too often, compromising where they had to. Nikolai struggled to sleep afterwards, wandering between the rooms of their apartments, convinced he should be doing more. Alina had to coax him to bed with a soft voice and soft promises, both hands held in both of hers. Nikolai would lay his head on her chest while she whispered stories from her childhood, whispered her favourite misadventures, whispered what it felt like for sunlight to shoot through her, until she felt his breathing even out and she’d close her eyes and drift off too.

.

Alina had faced armies of shadow monsters. She had fought the Darkling, who appeared to her in the dark, whispering lies until she questioned her sanity. But nothing prepared her for Lukas Lindgren.

Alina reached the end of her patience with the Fjerdan Ambassador. It wasn’t particularly blistering or personally offensive remark, but it was the final measure she could take. During tea, he looked at his gold-edged cup and remarked, “The cups at my family estate contain three times the amount of gold edging. You’ll find it adds value to the cup.”

Nikolai’s face was pleasant enough, nodding sagely. Alina met his eye and widened hers meaningfully. Nikolai’s lips quirked up imperceptibly, but he said nothing.

“Of course,” he said, “There is nothing like _solid_ gold.” He smiled, full of slime. “I have several bowls made in such a fashion.”

Alina stood suddenly, squeezing Nikolai’s shoulder and excusing herself for a moment.

Her departure was abrupt but they were technically in a recess; she doubted Lindgren would notice enough to take offence, anyways. He was too busy staring at his reflection in his spoon. She walked out of the hall to the nearest exit, tipping her head back in the chilling air. She took a deep breath. Lindgren was sucking all the oxygen out of the room.

“My lady.” Alina opened her eyes to find the Shu Ambassador bowing. “My apologies. I thought the courtyard was empty. I needed… a moment.”

Understanding passed between the two women in a look. Suddenly they were both laughing, giggling up the wall of the palace, unable to stop themselves.

.

“When did you know?”

The candlelight in their chambers was running low. Alina didn’t need it throughout the night anymore; she knew Nikolai by other things than on sight – she knew the feel of him and the sound of his breathing and the rhythm of his heart against her ear. Tonight, they’d left it burning while they lounged against one another, halfway through a bottle of sweet wine. The first peace treaty had been signed and approved. Ravka was no longer at war with the Shu.

Alina’s question was soft; they’d been speaking in normal tones, but the question felt vulnerable. Like it had to be whispered.

It was a vague question, too, but Nikolai didn’t need her to explain. She was leaned against his bent legs, facing him. He reached forward and twisted some of her fine hair around his fingers.

“When you kicked me,” he told her, “In the carriage, after I kissed you. That was when I knew I was in trouble.” He smiled – not smirked, _smiled_ , and it was like watching the sunrise. “I’d heard about the Sun Summoner, of course, but until then, you were a means to an end. A part of the grand plan. And then I met you. And you were vicious and kind and vulnerable and afraid and not afraid to be. And then you _kicked me_ , like the ferocious creature you are.”

Alina went to kick him, lightly, but he caught her foot and pressed a kiss to her instep before returning it to the bed. She smirked.

“And _you_?” He asked, stretching back and smirking now, which seemed especially lecherous because he was shirtless. “When did you know you were madly in love with me? Was it when I bested the Darkling on the ship? When we reunited in the mountains? The first time you saw me shirtless?”

“I don’t know when it started,” Alina said honestly. “But I _knew_ when you came to the orphanage, on its opening day. You said you weren’t there as a king, but a proud husband.”

Nikolai shook his head at her.

“What?” She asked, jabbing him with her toe. He slid his hand up her calf, cupping beneath her knee.

“We could’ve been having sex _ages_ earlier,” he said, shaking his head again. Alina laughed.

“Yes,” she said, “If you hadn’t been so hung up on your _honor_.”

“Honor?” Nikolai feigned shock, “Sweetheart, I’m a _privateer_. I don’t have honor.”

“Pirate,” she said.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Nikolai sighed outrageously, barely hiding his grin. Alina smiled.

“Extremely,” she agreed, sincere, and watched Nikolai flush before he was sitting up, leaning in towards her.

.

.

.

.

.

_coda_

.

_Kaz Brekker thought the King of Ravka looked a little_ too _happy. He’d prefer if he didn’t. It was bound to pull attention. No one was_ that _happy around here._

_Except…_

_Unwillingly, Kaz’s eyes were drawn across the room to Inej, as she laughed at something Nina said, head tilted back and smile a flash of white. Something in his chest_ clenched _._

_“That,” Nikolai Lanstov said, dragging Kaz’s attention towards him. “Will be the best decision you’ve ever made.” Kaz started to sneer, but Lanstov just winked. “Trust me.”_


End file.
